it it but ashes, behind my lies
by blindmemories
Summary: The President of Panem has a reputation, scarred and seared to his skin like burns. His reign od power is but detained as he is pushes away by the ones he so-called "rules". But there are things everyone secludes to keeping in the past, but every thorn can have a rose.


it is but ashes, behind my lies

a president snow fanfic.

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I was just messing around with wording. rated teen for big words? sure.

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He felt zealous, truly. Mockery and merciless threats kept his mind from straying towards his past like a lone wolf whose pack refused him, although his heart yearned to crawl back day after day. No, the myriad of menacing words thrown at him on a fairly daily basis were barely taken as retribution to his actions but received as boosts to his insusceptibility towards his hapless past. He was the frigid, sable-hearted ruler of a country that could only see him as an onset for rebellion. Of course, nothing could dent his shield of arrogance and potency; especially not the negligible citizens of the Districts.

"Sir, would you like me to order Troop 17 to hold them back?" Crane asked, watching the screen with wary eyes.  
The President glanced at the head Gamemaker with an almost noxious  
look plastered against his surgically stretched skin.  
"Make sure we leave them knowing that a feeble group of petty rebels can never hurt us, no. They won't reside, they will never make this fallacy again."  
Seneca nodded with a malicious blaze in his watery eyes as he pressed a few buttons on the station control panel.  
"Don't they know not to interpose with the Capitol's plans..?" He inquired to no one in particular.  
President Snow thought he had seized something like dolour in his Gamemaker's slacken voice, but that couldn't be.

Coriolanus Snow furrowed his trimmed white eyebrows in cruel amusement. To repudiate the Capitol's rules was to squarely admit to one's death. It never bothered him, the uprisings. They had a lulling effect on him. They made him feel inebriated with power. But they also had a morbid edge that sheared through him like any other lethal blade. Yes...so many abhorrent death threats and senseless screamings of injustice and disloyalty. President Snow felt a tremor jolt through his body and he swore irefully as he braced himself for his most dreaded fear, the reminiscence of his past

When the epidemic swooped over the land, nobody was prepared for the cost they must pay. It spread expeditiously, never failing to eliminate anyone who fell prey to its gruesome clutches. Mrs. Snow was one of the unfortunate souls who suffered from the malignant disease, to die in darkness- to disintegrate into oneself. President Gallaway Snow wasn't nearly singed by the horrific blow to the country and he slowly descended alongside his wife, his actions became dire and dilatory, his orders were rash and done without thinking, done only by the pain in his broken heart. Panem fell. The leftover shards of a broken Empire, held in the hands of an ingenuous child. Jacob Snow was, subsequently, the next in line to hold the title of President of Panem.

Authority. The word often rolled over the adolescent's tongue like a sweet piece of candy, but it had a bitter inside. Fueled simply by the aperture in his heart, no laws that left the cages of his mouth were accepted willingly. Rebuked by the citizens of his country and misunderstood in all ways, the juvenile fell. And a terrible think was re-built in its place.

Taking the name Coriolanus, the young ruler began the construction of his new form. His father had been a cruel man, just another monster who obtained the crown not by fighting for it but by inheriting it. There was always another heir to take up the crown when the last one left; always the heirs worsened. Jacob was a sweet young boy, and the citizens of Panem held their small needle of hope- their thread wrapped securely around the young Snow. But the sweet are easy to bend and fracture. Coriolanus remembered the beatings he had received from his father as he was raised and his new form stiffened with each objectionable thought.

President Snow liked the power he retained, the utter obedience and forced respect he received, it was all so sinister. He almost still seemed like a child, torturing an extensive ant hole. But the ants had stopped biting back. He was clever, almost prodigious. And so it only took him a couple of months before he hatched what would become, Panem's biggest nightmare.

Districts 1-12 would all have the chance to participate in his little piece of mastermind. A tremendous fighting arena, where death within it was inevitable. One girl and one boy from each District were lacerated from their families and thrown into what Coriolanus called, "The Hunger Games". One human became victor, the 23 others became victims. President Snow wondered acrimoniously about the lives he'd taken, and only for his stark amusement. But he never ended the nightmare he started, as if he couldn't wake up. No matter what he did, he was becoming his father.

He let out a tense breath, his hand strangling his maroon lapel. Images blurred and contracted before his eyes and he breathed slow, attentive breaths.  
"Sir? District 9 isn't subsiding," Seneca Crane said carefully, watching the President with fearful eyes.  
"It's okay. Hold back the troops, let those people argue, let them say what they want," Coriolanus shifted his gaze to the screen.  
"What?" The Gamemaker had lost his cool and was now staring apprehended at his ruler  
"They always say the same things, anyways. I created a world of lies and hate; if you stripped me of my lies...you would find only more lies. But they guard a past that is nothing now, like my name," President Snow murmured, downcast.

"Coriolanus? That is no lie. And your past is not simply 'nothing'," Crane listed with a skeptical tone, unsure of what the president was talking about.  
Coriolanus Snow looked at his head Gamemaker dolefully, for he had created this man too- and filled him with lies. But President Snow simply looked away, as if he never wanted to hear that name again. Where had Jacob gone? Jacob was ashes now, hidden behind his lies.


End file.
